10 So Close, So Cold One-Shot(s)
by DisneyPrincess55
Summary: I'll probably periodically post one-shots on here, just to get some practice in, or try out different writing techniques with the characters whom have helped me grow so much over the past five years.
1. One-Shot

I awoke in the middle of the night to someone rapping on my window, which frightened me so terribly I had to cover my mouth to keep from shrieking. I rolled over and peeked around the thick curtain covering the window five inches from my head. There was a boy standing outside in the snow, bundled up beneath layers upon layers of overcoats and scarves. He had a wool hat on, but the tiniest strands of his red hair were still visible, a stark contrast against the dusting of powdery snow that had fallen just that evening.

I clicked the padlock back into place and pushed the stiff window open, letting in the frigid winter air and sending a cloud of lingering dust into the night.

The boy with the red hair beamed at me.

"Hi," he said through a grin, "How are you?"

"Sleepy." I said matter-of-factly, "What's going on?" I sat up, silently inviting him in. He crawled through my minuscule window and sat on my bed, stealing the blankets right off of my lap and wrapping himself in them. "What, was the one-block walk too far for you?" I teased, snatching them back from him.

"Nollie, it's freezing out there," he chuckled, pulling the blanket back to his side, "Do you not see the snow?"

As if I'm blind. "What are you doing here?" I finally asked.

"I missed my best friend."

I fought the blush that crept across my cheeks by sliding out of bed and stepping across the cold wooden floor to reach my dresser. I slid the top drawer open and fished out a ragged sweater the color of a pumpkin and tugged it over my head. If he was going to steal my blanket, then I got to wear my favorite sweater. He gave me a sleepy half-smile as I crawled back into my bed and tucked my feet under the bit of blanket that is left.

Something fluttered in my stomach as I looked up at him, after propping my very flat pillow between my back and the wall, and realized that his gaze had never wavered from me. I swallowed and tucked my arms around my stomach, silencing the flutterings.

"Where have you been?" I finally asked, watching as my breath formed a tiny translucent cloud before my eyes.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it!" He looked like a child, the amount of excitement on his face, "I've just returned from the most fascinating adventure yet—" He spun into a fast-talking recount of his most recent adventure, which had caused him to be away for nearly two weeks. I'd missed him terribly while he was away. For the first few days, I didn't even know where he was—until I stopped by his flat and his landlady had given me a note he'd written in a hurry on his way out the door. _Nollie: be back soon._ I'd kept this note folded, tucked in my pocket as I waited for this 'soon' to arrive. It had snowed twice while he was away. Twice! And it's not even December yet.

And here it was. Here _he_ was. My best friend, the journalist with the red hair, finally back. Sitting on the opposite side of my bed with rosy cheeks and _my_ blanket.

He finished his story with a sigh and looked at me. I had been suppressing shivers the entire time, but he still caught on. "You're going to freeze to death," he noted, "Doesn't your room have a fireplace in it?" His eyes left mine and searched around the room for one.

"Of course not," I said quietly.

"What—but that's absurd!" He breathed, "How could your aunt do that to you?"

I shrugged, and his face fell.

A heartbeat later, he pushed the blanket back towards me and before I could open my mouth to protest, crawled over with it.

The boy with the red hair snuggled in beside me, tucking the blanket up around my neck. "There," he said with a smile, tucking the blanket up around his neck as well.

As his hand retreated under the blanket, it brushed mine. He hesitated for a heartbeat, our knuckles touching, a breadth of air between us.

And then he moved his hand away.

* * *

I missed them, okay

~DisneyPrincess55


	2. One-ShotS

hi there. it's been awhile. I was looking through my document of Tintin x Nollie stories (not uncommon) and I stumbled across my one-shots (once again) - pieces I wrote to add into stories but never did. I thought maybe if there was still people around who remember my stories that they might wanna read them! :)

There are three...the line break means one-shot story break! :) aaaaand...break!

* * *

The wind whistles past my building in an eerie, lonely song. Bracing myself for the cold, I stand my collar up around my neck, shove my hands into my pockets, and step out the door, preparing for the icy air to bite.

It isn't until I round north when I hear someone behind me.

"Where are you going now?" She's practically yelling against the wind. I turn and see her, hair billowing out around her, barely holding her ground against the wind forcing her backwards. She's only in a tattered sweater and skirt, no coat. Of course she doesn't have a coat. Her aunt would never bother with such extravagance.

"I'll be back soon!" I shout.

"What?"

"I said, I'll be back soon!"

"I can't hear you?"

The wind is so loud, I can hardly hear myself, so I don't blame her. I make my way back to her, giving in to the wind, and she looks at me, blue eyes wide.

"I'll be back soon."

"But that doesn't answer my question. Where are you going?"

"I'm not permitted to tell you."

"Then you won't mind me coming along?"

" _Nollie_."

This doesn't phase her. She folds her arms and tilts her head, staring at me intently. "So you don't mind?"

I don't have much of a choice in the matter now.

"Fine. But first—" in a swift motion, I sling my coat off my back and wrap it around her.

"Won't you be cold?" Her voice is a mere echo amidst the flashing images in my head: her shivering in her dark, cramped room. Coughing weakly. Her skin ghostly white.

She clears her throat and repeats herself, and I shake my head. "Of course not. I'm immune to it." I suppress a shiver, swallow, and look her in the eye. Her gaze says it all: eyes questioning, mouth open in the tiniest of gapes. "Well. Shall we?" I offer her my arm, which she takes, the ends of her lips curving upwards into a tiny smile.

I am entirely aware that bringing a sixteen-year-old girl along with me is the most idiotic plan in the entire world.

But what can I do? Say no? Tell her to go home and try not to freeze to death? Impossible. Not when it's Nollie you're speaking to.

* * *

Gunfire rings out in the room below us as I fiddle with the key to the safe. "Tintin…" Nollie's voice is a whisper, but in it I can hear her fear. She's rocking forwards and backwards with the tiniest of motion, wringing her hands together.

She speaks right as footsteps begin to ascend the staircase.

Without thinking, I pull her into a dark corner of the room, just far enough back that the lone man's flashlight beam doesn't reach us.

After his footsteps have receded, I turn to look at her.

I pulled her closer to me than I expected to, and the tiniest gleam of light from the window casts her silhouette mere inches in front of me. She realizes this at the same time I do, and I hear the breath catch in her throat.

I could kiss her.

But I don't.

* * *

 _Okay, focus. You can do this,_ I reminded myself, pointing the gun at the target on the concrete wall. _Can I?_ I lowered the gun, staring at the target once more. _Yes, yes you can._ Then why was I hesitating? I needed to learn this, in case I was attacked again. What if the next attacker had a gun? _All right. Focus._

"Nollie?" Tintin shut the back door behind himself and went to me. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Learning how to shoot," I said simply, pointing the gun at the target once more.

"What? No, you cannot do that. Come on, it's getting colder, let's go back inside." He reached out to pull the gun from my hands, but I snatched it away.

"You don't get it. I'm almost eighteen, I need to learn how to shoot a gun."

"And there will be another time for that. Now let's go."

"I'm good at it!" I was lying—I hadn't actually shot the gun yet—"See?" I pointed the gun at the target again, pulled the hammer back, and…

"Nollie, don't shoot! You're not—" He shouted, right as the gun fired. The bullet hit the concrete—inches from the target—and ricocheted off of the wall, finding its target in Tintin.

He slammed into the ground and I shrieked, realizing I had hit _him_. I flung myself on the ground beside him, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Oh my g-oh my God, Tintin, are you—I'm _so sorry,_ " I choked, my hand hovering above his shoulder, which was bleeding now. "I'll call—I'll call the hospital…" not wanting to leave him but knowing I had to, I stumbled for the house, picking up the telephone and calling for help.

Within fifteen minutes, we were at the hospital, and I was left alone to wait while they removed the bullet— _my_ bullet—from Tintin's shoulder. The room was quiet, the people in the room with me were sitting silently, staring at their hands or at the wall. It was terrifying, being in there.

Two long hours later, a nurse dressed in a white coat appeared in the hallway and glanced at her notebook. "Miss Roberts?" She called, and I stood quickly, staring at her. "He's all right. If you'll follow me—" I nearly ran towards her and hugged her, but I held back, following her from a distance. She led me to a room and pointed. "He's in there. Be careful, he's recovering. Lucky for you, the bullet didn't go in too deep, since it just ricocheted, but…never mind. I'll leave you be." She left, and I turned to the door, took in a deep breath, and opened it.

He was asleep—or, at least he looked it. When I approached the bed he opened his eyes and stared at me for a second before he exhaled slowly, almost in relief. "Hey," he whispered, reaching his good hand out for me. I grasped it and burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry," I hiccuped, "I didn't mean to—I should've listened to you—"

"No, Nollie, it's okay…"

"Is it? I lied to you, you know. I told you I was good at shooting but that was my first…my first try…I'm so sorry."

"Come here," he whispered, moving over in his bed and leaving a place for me to get in beside him. The thin mattress was warm from where he had been. He stroked my hair with his good hand, "I'm going to be all right, okay? I'm not mad at you or anything. I could never be mad at you."

"But I…"

"Everything is going to be fine. I'll be out of here tomorrow, then we can take your house."

I shifted so I was closer to him and mumbled, "Why didn't you want me to shoot?" The way he had been nearly begging me to come inside and put the gun down was what indicated that he didn't want me to shoot.

"You uh…you weren't lined up. The bullet wasn't going to hit the target, and I was afraid you'd hurt yourself."

"But instead I hurt you." I stared at my hands, folded on my stomach, a little dome of fingers.

"Sweetheart, I'm fine."

"Are you?" I cringed, realizing I'd snapped at him. Worry flashed in his eyes and I sunk back, cheeks prickling with embarrassment.

"Are _you_?" Concern flickered in his gray eyes.

"I believe as such," I shrugged, "Unless you believe otherwise."

* * *

I have another one, a longer one, but I won't post it unless I know there are people interested :) so if you read through this and enjoyed it, let me know! :) leave a review :)

~ a slightly older and wiser DP55


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